The Shogun's Daughter

by Robert Ames Bennet

A word from me would have precipitated an attack that must have resulted in the certain destruction of Keiki. But Yuki and my counsellors alike advised me against a course of action that would undoubtedly result in a conflagration not alone of fire. The death of Keiki by the sword would be the signal for civil war. Even the Prince of Owari had no right to punish the Shogunate’s enemies without the command of the Shogun.

The most I could do was to lay siege to the fortified dwelling of the plotter, that no message might pass between him and the old Prince, his father. All through the day we waited, lined up about the yashiki, and backed by the dense throngs of hatamotos and loyal samurais, that came and went, yet were always too numerous to be driven back by a sortie of the Hitotsubashi men or scattered before an attack by Mito. Keiki’s retainers wisely kept close and made no display of weapons at the yashiki windows. My men were held by my command, but there were times when an arrow or even a gibe would have stung our allies to an instant storming of the traitor’s stronghold.

Late in the afternoon my adopted father sent a message commending my actions, and asking me to hold my position until notified by Iyesada, with whom he was advising. At nightfall we lighted bamboo torches and vast numbers of lanterns, that neither Keiki nor any messenger might escape past us in the darkness.

A violent storm, accompanied by a deluge of rain and a display of lightning most unusual in Japan, swept over the city during the night, the wind at one time blowing a full gale. But though we were in the midst of the typhoon season, the storm failed to augment to hurricane force. The ardor of more than half of our volunteer allies was quenched by the downpour and the turmoil of the elements. Appalled by the seeming anger of the gods, they deserted us in great numbers. Yet enough remained for the watch to be maintained with utmost vigilance throughout storm and night.

Dawn brought us a clearing sky and lulling wind. At sunrise a rumor reached us that Midzuano had committed hara-kiri. An hour later an order from the palace, signed by Iyesada and countersigned by Abe Ise-no-kami, commanded me to withdraw my forces. Uncertain whether to obey, I despatched a messenger to Satsuma for instructions. Before the man could return, my adopted father came to me in his norimon and directed me to comply with Iyesada’s command.

Once again old Mito and his accomplices had escaped the penalty of treason. Midzuano had destroyed Kohana’s message, and with a false fidelity in the very face of death, had left a testament to the effect that he committed hara-kiri in proof of his own innocence and the loyalty of his friends. With consummate adroitness he had converted what would have been taken as a confession of guilt into a shield to hide his shame and a mask for the crime of his fellow-conspirators.

Without proof positive, Abe Ise-no-kami, who had already been appointed to the office of the dead Counsellor, was of too cautious a temperament to proceed to extremes. To assure himself a majority, he had favored a reorganization of the Council of Elders. Otherwise the regime of Iyesada promised better opportunity for the success of Mito than had the iron rule of Iyeyoshi. The father had been a strong man, who could command the fear and respect of all the great daimios; the son was an amiable, capricious weakling. Abe, though astute, was over-cautious and lacked the force and magnetism of a leader. His would be a policy of expediency.

Such were the bitter comments of my father as we sat in Owari Yashiki, breaking our fast on the dainty dishes served us by my quaint little mother. Divining with subtle intuition the great fear that troubled her son, Tokiwa Sama ventured to inquire what effect the murder of Iyeyoshi would have on my marriage. The Prince confessed his inability to foresee, but assured me that he would make every effort to obtain from Abe and Iyesada a confirmation of the agreement.

With this he left us and returned to the palace,—to find Keiki already in conference with the new Chief Counsellor. It was the beginning of a ceaseless contest of influence and intrigue between Owari and Mito.

Sobered by the fate of his fellow-conspirator and guided no doubt by the crafty counsel of his imprisoned father, Keiki restrained his fiery temper and proved himself a master of subtlety. With every move he expressed a heartfelt desire for an amicable adjustment of differences and for the coalescence of all parties under the banner of the Shogunate. This was his protestation even while his agents were intriguing with the Kyoto court nobles to prevent the formal investiture of Iyesada with the title and office of Sei-i-tai Shogun.